Nightmares and Monsters Parts 1-5
by Misty3
Summary: Sort of a sequel to Waking Nightmares
1. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: Everything that's not Marvel's is mine. And if you can't tell who belongs to who you have no right to even be reading this.  
Author's Note: This is a sequel to my first fan fiction "Waking Nightmares". You don't need to read that one to understand what's happening however. I suggest you do it anyway, just to make me feel better! ;) Please e-mail me at mad-l@juno.com. My mailbox craves sustenance!  
  
Nightmares and Monsters Part 1/?  
by Misty  
  
  
"How can you watch this stuff? It makes no sense," Wolverine asked his companion.  
  
"Yes, it does," retorted Jubilee. The two were watching a movie in the New York mansion's massive living room. She was sprawled out upon the overstuffed couch with a bowl of popcorn snug in the crook of her arm. Logan was being his usual self and skulked in a recliner. "The blonde bimbette runs screaming through the house until the guy in the mask shish-kabobs her. Then that brunette kills *him*. Well, *them*."   
  
"And that makes sense to you?"  
  
"Duh Wolvie! Of course it does."  
  
". . . Sure hope this is a phase you're gonna grow out of."  
  
"Just shut up an' watch the movie," she said with a smile.  
  
As Jubilee stretched in front of the TV, She lazily thought about the events of the day. The remarkably *uneventful* events of the day. It was one of those rare occasions where no spandex-clad weirdo or mutant-hating jerk was causing trouble. All of the X-Men had decided to relax. Storm was in her room playing with her plants, Rogue had somehow convinced Gambit to go shopping with her, Cyke and Jean had disappeared sometime after breakfast, and both the Beast and the Professor had been inclined to bury themselves in work. Jubilee herself had begged Wolvie to rent some movies.  
  
Jubilee was startled out of her reverie by Wolverine's gruff voice. "I'm goin' fer another brew. Want anything?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, some more popcorn please."  
  
"That's your third bowl!"  
  
"Yeah, I know," she said.  
  
Logan only grunted and headed for the kitchen.  
  
The screen caught Jubilee's attention. The killer had chased the blonde into her backyard. The doomed teen screamed for her life. *"Aaaaa-"*  
  
*"-AAAAAAAARRRGH!"*  
  
Jubilee was on her feet and running towards the kitchen as she realized that the last scream had been real. She skidded to a halt, however, at the sight that met her in the doorway.   
  
Beer and popcorn scattered along the linoleum where they had been dropped. Deep furrows scarred the door of the open refrigerator. Chairs were overturned and the dining table had been pushed back. Logan cringed in the midst of the chaos. Bone claws extended, he clung to his head as if it were threatening to explode. The pain in his cry was etched into every pore of his being. From the extreme pain on his face and in his scream, Jubilee thought it just might have been.   
  
And then the mutant's face relaxed, his screams subsided, his claws *"slacht"* back into his forearms with a spray of blood, and Wolverine collapsed.  
  
Jubilee sprang out of her shocked stupor and ran to her friend.   
  
"Wolvie are you okay?!" she cried. "Hey, I need some help in here!"  
  
The teen crouched over Logan's prone form and prayed for him to be all right. Her prayers appeared to go unanswered when she saw the blood running from his ears and nose. He didn't respond to her touch. She became frantic with fear.  
  
*"Help?! Professor?! Jean?! Beast?! Somebody?!" Only the emptiness of the house answered her.   
  
". . . anybody?" she whimpered.  
  
As she listened to the shrieking silence Jubilee realized that she had never been so frightened.  
  
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Part 2/?  
  
The bald man made his way through the hallway toward the Med-lab door. The hoverchair made soft mechanical noises as it glided over the Persian rug. The chair, like so many other things hidden in and under his mansion, was a gift from the Shia'ar Empire. Or rather, from his soulmate, the Empress Lilandra.  
  
The Asian-American teenager looked up from her sentry post. "Professor! Beast took Wolvie in there like years ago an' I haven't heard anything from him an' I'm really startin' to worry 'cause he looked really bad an'-"  
  
"Jubilee, take a breath. Calm down," Charles Xavier said reassuringly. "I am going in to see them now, all right?"  
  
"...Okay. I just wish somebody would tell me what's goin' on."  
  
"Do not worry, Jubilation. I'm sure everything will be fine."  
  
Xavier left her standing there and went in to make sure that everything *was* fine. Hank McCoy met him at the door.  
  
"Physically he's fit as a fiddle as far as I can surmise," the Beast rushed. "But as to his mental condition...let's just say I'm glad you're here."  
  
Alarmed by Hank's vocabulary as well as at his disheveled state Charles entered the room with trepidation. Over the years, he'd gotten used to Beast's love of words and could read him very well without the use of his "talent". Such subdued tones usually meant that he was under an undue amount of stress.  
  
The Professor's "talent" stemmed directly from an extra set of genes. These genes, besides making him one of the greatest psi-talents in the world, labeled him as a mutant, and thereby shunned and ridiculed by the world. Xavier chose to rise above the hatred and created a group that crusaded for equal rights. A group that of late had been turned to a more militaristic approach.  
  
Despite humanities overall outlook towards mutants, Xavier chose not to use his gift other than in the most dire circumstances. He perceived it as morally wrong, worse in some cases than rape or murder. However, there are some things a sensitive mind just can't shut out.  
  
The emotions in the room were so palpable that Xavier felt nauseous. A wave of anger hit him first, rolling across his brain. The Professor could sense the underlying tones of fear and pain and knew that the anger was just a mask. A wall of rage to cage the hurt.  
  
Logan had awoken in the lab five minutes ago. Judging by the debris on the floor and tables, he hadn't been happy about it. Wolverine himself paced the littered area like a trapped animal.  
  
Radiating waves of calm, Xavier slowly approached him.  
  
~ It is all right Wolverine. Whatever happened is over now- ~   
  
Charles recoiled from what was roaming around Logan's skull. It was as if he'd stepped into a pit of horrifying nightmares blistered with a fire of hate. His brain went numb with the brief contact.   
  
"Logan...what-what *happened* to you?"  
  
The Wolverine had stopped pacing and was staring at the strange creature him. At first the wheeled thing was confused him and the temptation to run or attack was very strong. Slowly his mind came back into focus. At least, he remembered how to speak, and why he should do so.  
  
"I don't know Chuck...This one was definitely worse than the last, though."  
  
" 'The *last*'? This kind of attack has happened before and you didn't tell any of us?"   
  
Logan straightened and looked directly into Xavier's eyes. His voice was quiet but firm as he said "When a man's brain falls apart piece by piece he doesn't really care for his friends ta witness it. I'm sure *you* can understand that."  
  
Xavier told himself he shouldn't have been surprised that he would keep this to himself. Wolverine was known for being a loner. Charles also ignored how much it hurt to know his friend kept him in the dark about something like this.   
  
"How long?" was all he said.  
  
" 'Bout three weeks ago was the first. Nightmares came every night since."  
  
"What sort of nightmares? Are they like the one a few weeks ago?"   
  
Wolverine looked away. "Just nightmares."  
  
"Logan, I think we'd better talk about this. Let Hank examine you thoroughly and then we will-"  
  
The wall of anger was back. "I've 'bout had my fill o' examinations. And bein' *here*, Charlie!" Wolverine growled as he headed for the door.   
  
"Logan, wait! It is important that we-"  
  
"Wolvie!!!" Jubilee squealed grandly as the door slid open. "You're okay! You had me scared silly, you hairy little fire plug-*Oof!"  
  
Logan stalked past the girl without a backwards glance, almost knocking her to the floor. For once, a stunned Jubilee had nothing to say.  
  
The Professor hovered into the hallway to sit next to her. As they watched Wolverine's back descend down the staircase.  
  
"What crawled up his butt?" Jubilee muttered to herself.  
  
Xavier had to give pause to wonder the same.  
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Part 3/?  
  
"How often do we get the chance to just sit and be together?" Jean asked her husband.  
  
"Far less than I'd like..." Scott answered.  
  
The pair snuggled together under a quilt, although it wasn't especially cold outside. They were watching the stars on their bedroom balcony. There seemed to be so many out tonight; every inch of the black sky was littered with sparks of diamond.   
  
Cyclops was gazing into his wife's emerald eyes when he said "Beautiful, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, it is-"  
  
~Jean?~  
  
The two sighed and broke apart as Jean acknowledged the Professors call.   
  
~Wolverine has had some sort of attack. I'm worried, but he won't speak to me about it. Perhaps, if you try...~  
  
~All right Professor. What happened?~  
  
After he had related to her the story of the "attack", Jean broke contact and looked towards Scott.  
  
"The fun never stops at the School for Higher Learning."  
  
"Professor Xavier should put that in the administrations brochure," Cyclops smiled.  
  
"I have to go. The Professor wants me to talk to Wolverine."  
  
Scott looked away, the moonlight glinting off his visor. Jean didn't think the two men would ever get along. They were teammates and she knew that each one would die for the other without hesitation... but drinking buddies? She thought that asking a bit much. Scott knew that she loved him with all her heart, but there'd always be something between herself and Wolverine. A bond of friendship, attraction, love, anger, protection; she felt all of those things towards Logan at any given time.  
  
"We'll continue this later," Jean whispered, placing a hand on her lovers chest. She kissed him on the cheek and left him there alone, to gaze at the stars and consider the possibilities.  
  
  
The woods surrounding the Xavier estate held a number of surprises, not the least of which was the man resting in the utmost limbs of his favorite oak tree. His raven-hued hair swept into wolfish peaks above either ear, and his face was ragged, as if chiseled out of granite by tired hands. Despite these features, and the fact that he was only a little over five feet tall, the most amazing thing about the man was his eyes. The blue orbs at times held the wildest rage, spearing all who dared near. At others, they showed a compassion and tenderness somehow exotic to his rough exterior. Their gaze was slightly humorous though as he looked through the branches at Jean Grey-Summers approach.   
  
"They send you out here to make sure I wasn't eatin' the neighbors?" Logan asked.  
  
"Yes," she smiled. The red head squinted into the tree. "Are you going to make me sprain my neck or are you coming down?"  
  
"...Why don't *you* come *up*?"  
  
~Always trying to start something, aren't you?~ Jean sighed and did as asked. Like Xavier she was telepathic, but *unlike* him she was also a strong telekinetic. With a thought she was airborne and floating towards Wolverine's eye level.  
  
When she reached him, she looked around. The mansion could be seen through a break in the leaves. She'd never seen it from this angle before. She could see into all of the back and side windows and observe the mini dramas that took place inside. She could see Ororo in her attic, Beast fixing what looked to be a monster sandwich in the kitchen, The Professor trying to observe them obscurely through his study window... and Scott waiting for her on the balcony.  
  
Jean had a breakthrough as she watched Logan gaze at the house. Wolverine, the "consummate loner", was watching his friends lives; observing all the little stories that played out between his teammates. He felt that he should be out here watching instead of in there, living. Wait- not just watching... but.... *protecting*? Protecting from *what*-  
  
~GET OUTTA THERE JEANNIE~  
  
With a start she realized she had been trying to scan Logan's mind. It was disconcerting to say the least that her concentration could slip like that, even for a moment. Her mind felt slimy, as if she'd touched... tainted.  
  
Something strange was happening to her friend. Almost as if...  
  
Wolverine was watching her warily.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Logan. Sometimes you just think too loudly, I guess," she said, knowing it for a lie. Logan was one of the most closely guarded people she knew.  
  
The look in his eyes told her he knew more was troubling her but he would wait for Jean to feel comfortable enough to speak her mind.  
  
"Logan... we're all worried about you. The Professor tells me you haven't been sleeping well. And these mood swings... Care to tell me about it?"  
  
He stared at her hard. "No."  
  
~X-Men report to the Blackbird at once. You will be briefed en route.~  
  
Jean sighed. *That's twice today that the Professor's come between me and the men in my life.~  
  
"Oh, the life of a superhero," she whispered as she followed Logan into the mansion.  
  
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Part 4/?  
  
Cyclops swayed slightly as the X-Men's jet traveled through an airpocket. Bothered by the interruption, he turned back to the monitors and began the mission briefing.   
  
"This news report aired live a few minutes ago on a local station."   
  
A screen came to life behind him. It showed a grainy image of a teenage girl fighting with a group of costumed people. The offenders were obviously mutant and the girl seemed to be more intent on avoiding them than hitting them. She ran ahead of the pack and the image was paused. The camera had zoomed in on her face. Her iris' were white outlined in black bleeding into normal-looking pupils. The bones of her face seemed remarkably delicate, as if a strong wind would shatter her into a thousand pieces and her hair and eyebrows were white. She was a mutant, too.  
  
Cyclops continued, all business. "The hostile mutants have been identified as the new Dark Riders." His eyes flicked briefly to Wolverine as if it were somehow his fault. "They're our x-factor, we don't know what they're capable of yet. What Apocalypse wants with the girl is still unknown; we don't even know who *she* is yet." He looked at each of them in turn. "But whatever it may be, we can't let them hurt her."  
  
Storm turned from the cockpit. "We will arrive at the girl's last known location in one minute."  
  
The gathered X-Men prepared themselves for the coming battle in their own ways. As Cyclops moved up to the cockpit, Phoenix sidled over to Wolverine. The Canadian was smoothing his mask over his face. She wanted to ask if he could handle the mission but decided on safer ground.   
  
"Jubilee nearly had a fit when the Professor said she couldn't come on this mission. She's still probably pouting in her room."  
  
"Chuck knows what he's doin'. She'll get over it."  
  
She shook her head in agreement and allowed the "mother" tone into her voice. "I think what happened earlier today is still bothering her, though. You scared her and that brush-off didn't help matters. Believe it or not she really cares about you."  
  
He looked away during the beratement. It was bothering *him*, too. He'd have to apologize when the mission was over...  
  
Wolverine was saved from an answer as the Blackbird landed smoothly.   
  
It was time for battle.  
  
===========================  
  
The landing was not lost on the mutants fighting below. Fighting was an odd term for it, though- it seemed to be more taunting than anything else. As if on cue, just after the X-Men touched down the fighting escalated once more.  
  
Being the first one out of the Blackbird, Wolverine wasn't sure if the others saw or not. He meant to file it away in his mind for later consideration but the action propelled towards him and all thoughts of oddities were forgotten.  
  
The girl had erected some sort of force field, keeping the attackers at bay. There were five Dark Riders; the number gave the X-Men a slight edge. A male surrounded by heat mirage stared intently at the girl. Another had strange membranous wings and obscenely reminded Logan of a flying eel. One tall female just stood hitting the field, the blows hard enough to shake the dust and dirt on the ground. One horrid looking creature was a mass of living... void. Wolverine got the impression that if stared at long enough, a person would be lost forever in the nothingness of the fourth Dark Rider. The last, a female, simply stood to the side, watching.  
  
His brief sum up took place in the time it took him to step out of the door of the mini-jet.   
  
Logan smiled. *This is gonna be relaxin'*, he thought, and stepped up to the battle.  
  
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Part 5/?  
  
While the Dark Riders powers were completely unknown, the X-Men outnumbered them slightly and had experience on their side. As Scott saw it, this would be an easy fight.  
  
"Leave the girl alone!" he commanded.  
  
"Sure," said the woman pounding on the force field. "We've got bigger fish to fry now, anyway."  
  
*She changed mind awful fast-* but Cyclops didn't have a chance to complete the thought as the shimmering man turned to him. He flung both arms at the X-Man and the concrete warped and buckled under immense heat in a direct route to Scott's chest.  
  
Cyclops ducked and rolled and imagined going throughout life as a maimed burn victim when-  
  
-the wave went completely around Phoenix's telekinetic shield.  
  
~What? Don't you trust me, lover?~  
  
~Always, Jean.~  
  
Safe inside the confines of his wife's protective bubble, Cyclops aimed and fired an optic blast to stun the man. It scored a direct hit on his chest- but he somehow remained standing. Scott fired again, and this time saw the reason why. The force of his blast was redirected throughout the man's body, adding to the shimmer.  
  
*All right, time to change tactics.* "Storm!" he called. "Put this guy on ice!"  
  
"With the ease of the falling rain." Storm hovered ten feet in the air, reminding Scott of her previous title of "goddess". She raised arms and face to the sky and dark clouds mauled away the sun. Lightning flashed as Storm rose higher-  
  
-and was throttled aside by the forgotten eel creature. As flesh connected with flesh, an electric charge shot through Storm's body. She was gripped by it's claws and thrown to the ground. The gathered Storm was left to fend for itself.  
  
"*No!*" Cyclops fired a strong bolt at the creature and sent it hurling off course. He felt the heat blast diverted from him again, this one stronger than the last, and chided himself for forgetting his attacker.   
  
"Okay. Let's fight fire with fire," he mumbled a hand, reaching for his visor.  
  
But instead of touching metal, he clutched at his temple as he heard the scream.  
  
=========================  
  
Phoenix observed more of the battle than her husband did; it was part of her job. After securing Cyclops' shield she turned to the others.  
  
Rogue and Gambit were tag-teaming (*They did that a lot lately*, she thought coyly) the "Strong Woman". She didn't seem especially fast and the two Southerners were running rings around her. The blonde didn't seem bothered by Rogue's blows; that was cause for concern. The only damage that Gambit was doing was to private property within the battle zone.  
  
Beast was warily circling the fifth Dark Rider, the "Pensive One". She just watched him calmly, as if he were some old TV show that she had already memorized the lines to.   
  
Jean joined Wolverine beside the "Void". Across the field from them, Cyclops was firing his second shot at the "Shimmering Man".  
  
"Together again, eh?"  
  
"Always, Logan."  
  
As Wolverine charged the strange miasma of blackness, Phoenix went inside it's mind. This procedure was highly irregular and potentially dangerous but she had a feeling that the fight would be over a lot quicker that way.  
  
She expected a searing cauldron of hate, perhaps an inner void to match the outer one, even to learn that he was Sid Neyer from Jerkwater, Iowa. What she found however was none of those things; in fact, she found nothing at all. His mind was completely blocked.   
  
"Hey, kid *look out!*"  
  
Jean was jerked back to her body by Wolverine's harsh grate. He was running full tilt toward the white-eyed girl. "Take care o' this guy Jeannie!"  
  
He tackled her just before the telephone pole, loosened by Gambit and Rogue, toppled into where she had been cowering. She lifted her head from under Wolverine's protective body and looked at him. Startlement was plain in her extraordinary eyes and face.  
  
"You okay kid?"  
  
Her doe eyes were suddenly saddened as her face grew determined. "I'm sorry, Mr. Logan."  
  
In such close quarters he had no room to jerk away as her hands clamped on his temples. The teen began to glow a fuzzy white and Logan screamed as blood burst from his eyes, nose and ears. Jean reeled as she- and all of the others through her instinctual battle-formed link- felt his howl tear through the psychic plane. She knew what it felt like- so horrible a sound that no mortal being should ever have to hear or make it. It was a death cry.  
  
In her mind's eye she felt the scream subside and with her physical eyes she saw Logan slump in the girl's arms.  
  
No.  
  
~Noooooo!~  
  
Storms unconscious body hit the ground with a "THWACK".  
  
And, as if on cue, the Dark Riders attacked.  
  
The Strong Woman exhibited a quickness previously unheard of and grabbed Gambit in one hand, Rogue in the other. She knocked their two skulls together with a sickening crack. Rogue was left stunned, Gambit was bloody and broken; both were down.  
  
The Placid One's eye's gleamed and Beast, who'd been in the process of leaping, simply fell, dead asleep.  
  
The living Void's coils seemed to enwrap an unseeing Jean Grey-Summers face. Her body barley struggled as her air supply was shut off for a moment. The telepath slumped to the ground, unconsciousness mercifully invading her mind.  
  
With Jean's shield gone, a stunned Cyclops was easy pickings for the heat shielded man.  
  
Staggered by Wolverine's shared anguish, the X-Men fell within one minute of each other.  
  
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Oh, my God! What have I done?! evil laugh Don't freak out, there's still a few more chapters to go. ;)  
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	2. Default Chapter Title

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Author's Note: Why is all the good stuff written at 5 am? :) * = thought or emphasis ~ = telepathy  
  
Disclaimer: Everyone that's Marvel's is Marvel's, other than that they're all mine. You might recognize a phrase from the manga "Neon Genesis; Evangelion". I don't own that and this usage has nothing to do with that story, I just think it fits for what I have planned! ;)  
  
Nightmares and Monsters Part 6/?  
by Misty  
  
Rogue found herself in a dark, warm place. She floated through fuzzy gray clouds, content. She was not bothered by the absence of herself until she thought of-   
  
"*Remy!*"  
  
She jerked awake and pushed herself onto her feet... and wished she hadn't. The Southern belle reeled as she stumbled for balance. *Looks like that gal had us a few suhprises.*  
  
Gambit lay crumpled a few feet away from where she had fallen. Her heart stopped in her chest as she prayed to see the rise and fall of his. Rogue knelt next to him and held her breath. At first it didn't seem-  
  
There! *Thank God!* She grasped his neck as if she were a drowning sailor and he a life raft. There was a pulse but it was a staggering one. Gambit didn't answer her calls to him.  
  
Rogue punched her comm link perhaps a little harder than necessary. "Professor?! This is Rogue. Remy's hurt bad and Ah don't know 'bout th' others. We need evac *now*!"  
  
"*On our way*," was the tinny reply.  
  
As much as she hated to, Rogue turned from Gambit's side to search for her teammates. She gasped as she saw the aftermath of the battle. Power lines sparked over a downed pole. Pavement buckled and was melted in several places. Small fires burned everywhere. Lightening flashed in the distance as Ororo's conjured storm wreaked havoc throughout the town.  
  
And among the debris lay her family. The Dark Riders had disappeared.  
  
Movement off to her left caught her eye. Red hair swung over blue-covered shoulders. In the woman's arms lay a uniformed figure. The sun glinted off of his visor as he was rocked back and forth. Back and forth.  
  
"Jean? Are ya'll all right? What happened?"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
At first Rogue thought she meant Cyclops, the man cradled in her arms. But no- the only visible injury to him was a small burn on his left temple. She could see him breathing.  
  
And then she remembered. Jean had connected them all as a habit at the beginning if the fight. Through it commands were given, strategies were relayed, and general conversation was carried. When the final attack came, Jean had acted as a human circuit breaker, feeding the others links. Rogue shivered as she recalled the anguished scream and the sense of instant... emptiness. When the telephone pole fell ...and Wolverine...  
  
...*Oh, Logan*...  
  
She felt tears stream down her cheeks as the dizziness she'd been fighting finally overtook her. She fell heavily to her knees and stared at the puddles of blood next to the pole.  
  
"He's dead and they took his body. Why would they take his body?" Jean stared at Rogue with haunted, vacant eyes. Her face was completely expressionless.  
  
*Shock*, her numb brain thought. *She's in shock.*  
  
"You'd better wake Hank up," Jean continued. "He can help with the others. And besides, his snoring is getting a little irritating."  
  
=============================  
  
Eve was frightened. The Dark Riders always scared her, especially before and after a mission. They were all so bloodthirsty, even under orders not to kill. It made her skin crawl when she thought of the things she had done with them.  
  
The evidence of their latest deception lay on a gurney next to her. Eve found her hand straying to smooth back his hair. Her fingers trailed down his face, luxuriating in his rough skin. Eve jerked as she came into contact with the dried on his face. Echoes of The Scream reverberated through her essence.  
  
He seemed so gentle, so kind lying there. Was this the same creature that she had only hours ago attacked in the most private of places?  
  
Eve knelt close to the inert form with a glance around her. They had left Void to watch him. He'd been given instructions to guard the body, but Eve wasn't concerned. The Void was little more than an empty robot. He would do as told vehemently, but only what he was told. She thought it sad that a human being could be turned into something like that.   
  
"I'm sorry, Mister Logan," she whispered. "I didn't want to hurt you like that. They never told me what kind of person you were..."  
  
-*LOOK OUT*-  
  
"...No one's ever done that before. No one's ever really... I just wanted to say thank you." She smiled. "But don't worry. You won't-"  
  
Her confession was laid to rest by a violent push between her shoulder blades. It came as such a surprise she had no time to put up her shield. She landed hard with a gasp as she bit her lip.  
  
"No use talking to *him* 'First Child', he can't hear you." Without rising Eve knew it was Marta. The tall blonde used her title derisively at every chance she could.   
  
Eve shivered as a horrifyingly painful numbness snaked inside her skull and spread slowly downward along her spinal column. Serenity. The deaf-mute let her feelings be known as she stared blankly down at Eve. Of all the Dark Riders, Eve was most afraid of her. She was able to control both the body and the mind of anyone with ease. She was also a telepath.  
  
~You did well, First Child. I never thought of using you as bait. Good touch.~ Her mental voice was just as distant and composed as was her outward demeanor.  
  
"I didn't *plan* it! It just *happened*!" she nearly screamed. Marta appeared taken aback by her outburst. Eve had never done that before; normally she was very passive. Eve herself was a little startled at her vehemence. She whispered softly "...He saved me all by himself. I wasn't controlling him then."  
  
She felt Serenity's affect wear off as she heard the two women head down the hallway of the plane. They might have lost interest in her but Eve didn't think so. Serenity probably filed away her outburst for examination and dissection later. She suppressed a shiver.  
  
-*YOU OKAY, KID?*-  
  
Eve, hugging her knees by the foot of the gurney, thought wretchedly: *No, Mister Logan. I don't think I'm okay.*  
  
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Part 7/?  
  
The unconscious form that lay on the med lab bed had an ugly yellow-purple bruise spreading along his left temple. It had been almost three hours and Gambit had failed to wake from his concussion.  
  
Sitting to his right was Storm. A white cast stood out in bass relief from the dark skin of her left arm. As she settled into her chair, she had to stifle a groan. She supposed that she should feel grateful that she had not landed on her head when she fell, but the myriad bruises on her along her torso made it rather difficult.  
  
She and Remy had suffered the worst injuries. Scott had received a small burn on his right temple, the only other evidence of the battle except . . . Ororo counted the faces around her. One was missing. She could almost see the gruff woodsman leaning indifferently against the wall. She smiled sadly as the ghost scent of tobacco whispered in her nostrils. Could it be true? Could he really be gone?  
  
"What happened?" Xavier's quiet voice shattered the silence.  
  
"You know what happened, Professor. You felt it yourself," Jean Grey answered. The shock had worn away and been replaced by grief. She leaned heavily against her husband.  
  
Storm herself had missed the end of the fight, and was glad. It seemed that Logan's pain had been so great that it had sent shockwaves across the psi-plane. Telepaths across the globe were witness to his final breaths. The mansion had been bombarded by phone calls from those offering condolences and their services, most of whom had never met Wolverine and didn't even recall how they knew which *number* to call. More than half of the messages were in a language other than English.  
  
*Or perhaps,* thought Ororo, watching the red head, *it was* Jean * who amplified and sent out her grief?*  
  
Scott ignored his wife's comment and answered Xavier. "It was a set up. The girl was bait for Wolverine. She ambushed Logan and the Dark Riders overwhelmed us. God, it was all my fault!" His eyes were haunted, voice stricken. "I went in overconfident and *he* paid the price!"  
  
"No, Scott, don't," Jean murmured, stroking his face. "If it's anyone's fault it's mine-"  
  
~Stop it.~ sent Xavier tersely. For a moment, Ororo thought she saw tears form in his eyes but he quickly controlled them. His voice quavered when he spoke, but still held authority in abundance. "If you start with that then we might as well dig a grave for you, too. Succumbing to our guilt and grief will help no one. Logan is dead. Nothing will change that. This is not the first time we have lost someone, and probably won't be the last-"  
  
A shrill cry of denial tore through his words and Storm ran towards the door, slowed by the bruises. The others beat her there.  
  
The site that met their eyes was a disheartening one. Beast had forgone the meeting with hopes of locating Jubilee. She had gone rollerblading as was her wont when under stress or just plain bored. Ororo could sympathize with her; she found the same comfort in her plants.  
  
The teen had obviously come home to find Henry keeping a look-out by the open door. His calm voice tried to soothe her but to no avail.  
  
"That's not possible! You're lying!" Her face was a snarl of anger, so reminiscent of Logan it gave Storm a chill.   
  
Jubilee realized that she had attracted the audience of those she overheard and turned to regale them as well. Something in their faces must have stopped her though; the rage quickly crumbled along with her face.  
  
Ororo dimly noted that the Beast's fur was matted with wetness on his cheeks.  
  
"It *can't* be true." A single tear trailed her face. And I'm gonna *prove* it's not. . ." Her voice was very quiet. "Wolvie *always* comes back when I need 'im. . .*Always*. . ."  
  
Storm wanted to go to the child but was beaten there by Rogue. The Southerner drew Jubilee into a big, protective bearhug. Tears streamed down her face.  
  
She spoke for the first time since the Blackbird had landed and responded to what Xavier had last said. Her voice was smooth and harsh. "How can ya be so *cold*? Yah tell us to move on and forbid us to even mention Wolvie's name in this house again. Then you'll go an' put his face in that shrine on yah desk!" She addressed the others in her fiery gaze. "Ah'm with Jubilee. And if ya'll'd *think* for a minute *you'd* be, too!"   
  
Ororo remembered seeing the picture frames on the Professor's desk one day. Intrigued, she had asked if she could look. He handed them to her reverently, as if afraid to break them. Some were of faces she recognized, others unnamed. Some wore the bright costumes of heroes, and others wore the plain clothes of men. Some smiled, some scowled, but all had been filled to bursting with life at the time of the picture. Scattered about his desk, they oversaw all that Xavier did, their faces giving judgment when they themselves could not. There had been at least half a dozen then. Storm knew their number would be one stronger by morning.  
  
"The child is right." Storm added loudly. She called on every ounce of courage and will power within her to keep her voice and body steady. Remarkably, it worked. "This assault occurred too easily. Granted, the Dark Riders could not have known that the telephone pole would crash under Rogue and Remy's assault, but *something* of that nature had to be planned."  
  
"The *dreams*," Xavier whispered.  
  
"Does no one else see how strange it is that the rest of us received only glancing blows as Logan lay there dying? They held back until just the right moment. When we were out we were completely at their mercy. Goddess, *they could have killed us as we slept!* But why didn't they? My friends, there is something larger at work here.  
  
"And what of his body? If we are completely wrong in our assumptions than there is still that. Goddess knows what profanation's the Dark Riders and their master are planning?!"  
  
Jubilee pushed away from Rogue. Her face and eyes were red but dry; she had not cried more than that once. Ororo knew she that she must be strong for Wolverine, as he had been for her countless times. *Oh, child!* She thought. *For your sake I hope we are right.*  
  
Jubilee's voice was strong and adamant. "We have to bring Wolvie home. No matter what."  
  
"Well that settles it. Anyone who wants to come, meet in th' hangar in a half hour." With that, Rogue turned back into the med lab and shut the door.   
  
* * *  
  
Rogue sighed and leaned heavily against the door. The tears she'd held in check during her "fairwell performance" welled in her eyes and a sob escaped her lips.  
  
What was she *doin'*? Rogue had felt Logan's pain as Storm and Jubilee had not. The eerie sound replayed every time she closed her eyes, his blood tattooed on her eyelids. She *knew* that Logan was dead . . .  
  
. . .And yet part of her insisted that he was alive. She *felt* it, deep inside. A strange rumbling in her throat when she talked; the phantom smell of cigars on her breath; a bizarre itchiness all over her body. These were all tiny things, easily ignored and discarded, but there was a *wrongness* about it that made her wary.  
  
As she *knew* Logan's *death* in her mind, she *felt his life in her soul*.  
  
It reminded her forcefully of the times that she had been exposed to his flesh. As much as she hated it, a part of her subconscious mind *relished* that side of her vampirish nature. Those brief contacts chilled her and thrilled her. The sensations were twofold with Wolverine. His senses were so *intense* that she became aware of every little detail around her. Every scent intoxicating; every sight luxurious; every touch so erotic as to almost be sexual. Thinking of the pain it would cause them both was all she could do to resist the temptation. She had no idea how Logan lived experiencing the world that way without succumbing to his senses . . .  
  
Much as she felt now, only slightly. . . *fuzzy*.   
  
*Or maybe Ah'm loosin' mah mind,* she thought with a false levity. There had been no touching. Of *anyone*.  
  
She crossed the room to where Gambit lay sleeping. Settling down next to him, she rested her cheek on his covered chest and stroked his face and hair with a gloved hand.  
  
"Oh, Remy," she whispered. "Ah don't want ta go off an' leave ya, not like this. But. . .Ah *have* to. It's for Wolvie. Ah know ya'd help if ya could. He *is* your drinkin' buddy after all." She closed her eyes and listened to his smooth heartbeat. "And when Ah get back you'd best be awake, Cajun, else Ah'm gonna punch ya so hard you'll wish ya really *were* in a coma."   
  
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Part 8  
  
Rogue looked up as she heard the footsteps echo in the hangar behind her. She'd been doing an over-all check on the Blackbird's exterior and could faintly hear Storm inside packing their supplies.  
  
"Yah really cut it close, Jubi-" The sentence died in her throat as she saw who it was.  
  
Cyclops stood before her, almost at attention. There was something odd about him, and it took her a while to realize what: he wasn't in uniform. The drab green sweatshirt and jeans looked out of place on his tall frame. She suspected that Jean was the only one familiar enough with him to be comfortable around him in those clothes; including himself.  
  
"You should have known that I wasn't Jubilee. My steps are too heavy." *Despite the fact that he'd been trying to walk noiselessly. It must rile him that he couldn't accomplish what some team members did naturaly.*  
  
Like Wolvie. . .   
  
"Did ya come by just ta critique me or did everahone send ya ta convince us ta give up?" she asked crossly.  
  
"Neither. I want to come."  
  
Never before had four little words baffled her more. It took her a moment to even realize that he said them.  
  
"*Why?*" she asked thinly.  
  
Rogue couldn't tell if he looked away from her- *damn them glasses*- but she saw his throat work a moment before he answered. "Jean's utterly convinced that he's dead. Up until a few minutes ago I would have agreed. But. . . you and Storm made sense, I guess."  
  
It was the first non-committal sentence she remembered hearing him say. He *did* look away from her this time, though. He stared across the hangar at the form coming towards them. A small, rueful smile played at his lips.  
  
"I feel like I owe it to him. He's the most honorable person I know."  
  
Rogue sucked in a breath she realized she'd forgotten to take as Jubilee blurred by, a rush of sound issuing from her so peculiar- "HisorryI'mlatebutIhadtapacksomestuffan'Ipickedsomethin'upferustamunchonaswelookedseein'ashowwe'llmisssupperan'allan'Hi'Ro!" -that Rogue wondered if it was some new language; Mallese or something. She turned back to Scott and his beleaguered expression made her grin.  
  
"C'mon, O Fearless One. Ah think we can find ya a seat."  
  
They heard Jubilee call them from inside the plane. She'd already dug into a can of Pringles but strangely her Californian accent did not alter around her mouthful of chips. "Hurry up you guys! We've got us a Wolvie ta find!"  
  
Scott shook his head as he marched inside. "And just how are we going to do that? We don't have any idea where he is."  
  
"Easy! Ya see that little gray box over there?" Jubilee pointed vaguely towards the cabin, already absorbed in munching down another handful. "That's a mini Cerebro. I took it from one of the labs when Beast wasn't lookin'. Don't look so shocked, Cyke, I left 'im a note explainin' it all. Well, we can't use that on Wolvie for obvious reasons but we *can* use it on the Dark Riders and the girl. Storm said that Chuck had gotten a lock on 'em with the big mamma in the house before you guys even *left* so it should be a piece o' cake ta find 'em on *this* one. An' where the Dark Riders are, Wolvie's most probably there too."  
  
Scott turned to Rogue to congratulate her on her plan but she shook her head before he could say a word. He turned to Storm but she only glanced mischievously at the beaming teen.   
  
"You came up with. . . Jubilee, remind me never to underestimate you."   
  
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Part 9/?  
  
Cold.  
  
A chill so deep it made his bones turn to ice.   
  
At first, that aching sensation was his whole world. He barely sensed the uncontrollable trembling of his distant body. An internal twitching, as if his entire body had fallen asleep.  
  
Slowly, blearily, color bloomed out of nothingness. It crept along the edges of his perception until he was surrounded on all sides by it. Then the colors *moved*. They blurred and melted together, forming fuzzy shapes and images. They were so bright and dizzying that he tried to close his dry eyes against them but found that he was unable to.   
  
It occurred to him that he must have had his eyes open for a very long time.  
  
In fact, now that he thought about it he couldn't move *anything*. All of his mental commands for movement were ignored. There was just the *cold*. His brain couldn't accept anymore sensory input than that; even the colors threatened to overwhelm him.  
  
And then there was a sudden feeling of *warmth*. It blossomed from his forehead and down into his eyes and cheeks. It was such a wonderful feeling that he let go of the colors and focused solely on the sensation of the hand on his face. It sat there lightly, as if hesitant. It was a small hand; he could feel the little bones work beneath the skin.  
  
He concentrated hard and brought his eyes into swimmy focus. A face looked down on him. It was very delicate, and the eyes were white to black. Wispy strands of silver-white hair fell over her shoulders and into her eyes.  
  
*Wait-*  
  
His expression must have changed because she raised her other hand to her lips and made a "shhh" noise. She glanced furtively over her shoulder and then back to him. She bent close to his ear and whispered softly.  
  
"I'm so sorry, but there's not much time now. Death is only a prelude to immortality and they'll be coming for you soon. You are Logan. No matter what happens, you must *remember* that. *You are LOGAN*."  
  
He felt something soft press against his forehead where her skin met his and she whispered even lower.   
  
*"Don't forget."*   
  
She pulled away quickly and he realized that a woman had appeared at his other side. This one was older and had dark blonde hair. From his prone position her features looked harsh and eerily motionless.   
  
The girl spoke as if answering a question. The putrid scent of fear filled the room. She was terrified.  
  
"Nothing! I just thought... But couldn't we just-" She dropped her gaze from the woman's and stopped her argument cold.  
  
After what seemed like forever, he felt the warmth slide away from him with her touch. He almost whimpered as the *cold* inched its way over his skin again.  
  
The blonde woman found and locked his eyes with her own.  
  
Something squirmed deep inside him and came charging to the forefront of his mind with her gaze. It was something very angry... but also very scared.  
  
This time he couldn't hold back the whimper as her icy hands replaced the girl's warm caress at his temples.  
  
*No, please-*  
  
~Goodbye Mr. Logan.~  
  
His skin was suddenly on fire and all remnants of the numbing cold were pushed violently from him. Tendrils of searing heat seeped into every pore. His body seemed to be a pyre of living flame and his mind was engulfed with the acrid smoke of its burning.   
  
He screamed as if the very Hounds of Hell were devouring his soul. His chaotic thoughts were shredded and taken away.  
  
Then he was gone-  
  
-And back again.  
  
It was so *cold*.  
  
Only this time the cold came from the *inside* of his mind, and spread out to the world.  
  
* * *  
  
The sun shone gold over the placid, flat landscape. Corn bowed as it passed under the Blackbird's streamline form. Farm houses dotted the fields at comfortably long intervals.   
  
*It's so peaceful down theah,* Rogue thought. *Ah bet those people don't have a care in th' world other than gettin' th' cows home early.*  
  
Her tranquil perusal of the farm lands outside the jet's thick window was rudely interrupted by a shrill beeping noise. After it had pointed the way to the Dark Riders the mini-cerebro unit had remained quiet. Not now, however. Cyclops and Jubilee tore into the cockpit as Storm straightened in the driver's seat. The noise continued for a small moment more, then stopped.  
  
"Cerebro," Storm's voice shook a little as she addressed the computer. It could just be an anonymous mutant living in the vicinity, but it was entirely possible... "Identify mutant signature registered."  
  
*"Known mutant: Logan. AKA: Wolverine."*  
  
The air seemed electrically charged as each mouth fell to the general vicinity of their owner's knees. After a few seconds of shock, a barrage of cries exploded from pale lips.  
  
"I *knew* it! I *knew* Wolvie wouldn't leave me!"  
  
"*Goddess!* Could it be?!"  
  
"*Yeeeeehaaaw!*"  
  
"All right, calm down. Calm *down*! Rogue, sit back down, you know better than to take off inside a plane. Jubilee stop jumping. Storm- for heavens sake we're veering off course! *Drive!*" Cyclops face remained impassive as he raised his hands for attention. Energy tendrils snaked out from underneath his mask, however, giving away his true feelings of excitement. A barely restrained smile curled the ends of his lips. "Cerebro, read off location."  
  
*"Unable to comply."*  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
*"Mutant Designate "Wolverine" signature no longer registering."*  
  
Jubilee looked confused. "What's wrong? We just found 'im!"  
  
Cyclops shook his head. He picked up the little box and read the screen. "I don't know. Cerebro definitely found Logan, but his signature just disappeared after a few seconds of contact."  
  
"Cerebro can't find 'im?" An unexpected chill coursed down Rogue's spine. The hair on nape of her neck tingled. She looked at the others. "It's like he died again."   
  
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Part 10  
  
"Well. Ah guess this is the place."  
  
*Duh, Rogue,* Jubilee thought wearily. They had landed near the spot where Wolvie's signature had terminated. Clearing away some abandoned wheat left to grow wild by some negligent farmer they had discovered a large camouflaged opening fit neatly into the ground. It was made to slide into two doors and open towards the sides.  
  
A thought occurred to Jubilee. Not only was having an underground lair tactically ideal for the Dark Riders but it would wreck havoc on Storm's claustrophobia. "Hey 'Roro? You gonna be OK down there?"  
  
Storm met her eyes and smiled. "I shall be fine, child, as long as I know that Wolverine is down there as well, perhaps suffering even more than I."  
  
Her words of confidence filled Jubilee with such an intense feeling of pride and devotion that she thought she might burst. *This is gonna happen,* she thought. *We're comin' Wolvie, don't give up yet.*  
  
Cyclops turned to the girl. "Jubilee, I want you to stay-"  
  
"No way Cyke," she interrupted. "I'm here for the duration. Those slimes have my Wolvie, and I aim ta get 'im back."  
  
Cyclops looked at the teen for a long moment, as if measuring her will to stay. Finally, he let out an exasperated sigh and began speaking again, his voice resonating with the "Boy Scout" tone he used when giving orders.  
  
"All right people, listen up. Our fatal flaw last time was that we underestimated our opponents. And now we're on their turf, and our numbers are cut in half. We cannot afford any screw-ups! Our goal here is to locate and extricate Wolverine. There will be *no* personal vendettas, just get him and get out." During this last remark he looked pointedly at Rogue and Jubilee. *Well,* gestured *anyway. Who can tell* what *he's lookin' at with that stupid visor of his.*  
  
"However, if and when we *do* run into the Dark Riders or there like, use whatever force necessary. Do *not* hold back." Jubilee noted the way the glass of his visor glowed a fiery red as he spoke. She knew for a fact that *he* wouldn't be restraining himself much at all.  
  
"Any questions? Good. Rogue, ring the doorbell and see if anyone's home."  
  
"You got it sugah!"  
  
Muscles used to much harder labor ripped through the metal doors as if they were made out of crepe paper. Metal screeched too loud in the silent meadow as it bent and tore under Rogue's will. Jubilee winced. *Well, there goes the element of surprise!*  
  
Storm conjured up a gale-force wind inside the doorway, blowing away any would-be attackers. In the next breath, Jubilee felt herself lifted into the air and swept gently into the opening by another, softer current.   
  
======================================  
  
As the darkness of the shaft overcame her, Storm took a deep breath to steady herself. It tasted stale and recycled. *This place has never seen the light of the sun,* she thought irrationally. Taking several deep breaths, she braced and opened her opaque white eyes.  
  
The rays of light coming from the broken door illuminated her current position. They were in what appeared to be a hallway receding into four different directions, like a compass. The adjoining halls grew dark about ten feet from their beginning. Storm could not see deep inside and was very aware that they could lead to anywhere-or to anyone.   
  
*What I would not give Charles or Jean here now. A telepath would prove invaluable. We have no idea where we are and Goddess only knows what we are walking into.*  
  
"Cyclops?" Storm whispered. "Perhaps you should contact the others through your psychic rapport with Jean. They should be notified of our situation in case we require back-up. And I am sure that they would be greatly relieved at the news of Wolverine's-"  
  
"Already taken care of Storm, except I didn't go through Jean. I called the Professor while we were still in the Blackbird. He's volunteered to mentally 'boost' our mini-Cerebro's link to the main computer. That should give us a wider range and a more powerful beam.  
  
"As to why I didn't contact Jean...She wasn't...feeling too well when we left. I didn't feel it necessary to bother her." Storm was a little taken aback by Scott's dismissive tone, and then she realized what had sparked the words. There was still a high chance that this was a trap, and the Wolverine was not here at all, or that what they would find would be...less than what they hoped for. Jean had gone into shock the first time Logan disappeared, what would happen to her if it happened again? No, it was best to not tell her until they were home, safe and sound- *all* of them.  
  
"Okay," Cyclops said in a hushed commanding tone. "We've got two options. One: pick a direction at random and hope for the best or two: we split up."  
  
"That'd be suicide!"  
  
"I know, Rogue...Jubilee, does Cerebro have anything to say?"  
  
She hunched over the little box. "Not a peep. Maybe it's broken-*hey!*"  
  
"*What?!* the other three said in unison.   
  
"It didn't detect a thing two seconds ago and now look!" Jubilee straightened and held out the computer for the X-Men to see. Set on "silent alarm", the screen flashed a brilliant green when mutant energy was present. As far as Storm knew, it had still been searching for Wolverine's signature.   
  
Jubilee did a slow circle holding the mini-Cerebro unit in front of her. The blinking intensified to a hectic beat when she passed the tunnel directly in ahead of the entrance.   
  
"That was far too convenient," Storm whispered. "Showing us where to go just as we ask? It must be a trap. Charles could not have possibly boosted the Cerebro unit this quickly."  
  
"Ah don't care *what* it is, we gotta do somethin'! Us standin' out here in th' open's gonna be like spottin' Beast's bald spot if they come after us!"  
  
Jubilee joined the cluster of anxious X-Men again. "We gotta move Cyke."  
  
Cyclops peered into the forbidding passage. "All right. I want everyone to be on their toes. I'll take point. Rogue, cover the rear. Jubilee..." A corner of his moth irked up. "Be a flashlight."  
  
"Did Fearless Leader jus' make a joke?"  
  
"Hey, Cyke made a funny! Isn't that one of the signs of the Apocalypse? *'Ye, and the spandexed one shall speak of chickens crossing roads and fire shall fall from-'*"  
  
"Jubilee."  
  
"What? Geez, you guys're no fun at all."  
  
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	3. Default Chapter Title

Nightmares and MonstersPart 11/?  
by Misty  
  
~It is done as you commanded, Lord.~  
  
The ancient eyes never left the monitor in front of the giant being. "Excellent. The Awakening went well?"  
  
~The body is strong, my Lord.~  
  
"And Eve?"  
  
~The First Child is in safe hands as you requested. She seems to be experiencing... 'regret' for her actions.~  
  
"Would that all felt as you, eh Serenity? It is no matter. She will see all soon enough. Begin the next phase of my plan."  
  
The blonde bowed deeply to her master's back and left. The monitor continued to play, showing a darkly lit hall on the outskirts of his lab. A small group slunk along the wall, as unaware of the security camera as the mouse is of the stalking cat.  
  
The figure pressed a button and the image changed. The hand lingered on the screen, fingers caressing what they found there. A man lay abandoned on a metal table, wires and tubes poking out from his flesh at odd angles.  
  
A suppressed whisper escaped the figure's lips. *"I have waited so long for you to arrive at this point... oh, so many years... all the pain you have endured... the rage you try to deny... soon you will arrive at your destiny. Death is only a prelude to immortality, and your time awaits you..."*  
  
=================================  
  
Serenity had been correct in her assessment of Eve- she was being torn apart inside. She had served the Master her entire life, having been given life by Him; she understood and accepted blindly what was expected of her.   
  
She had been told all about the harsh tales of the outside world. Of a brand new race of which she was a part of, although somehow better than the others. Creatures who shot red fire from empty eye sockets, vampire women that sucked out your soul with nothing but a touch, flying witches that singed and cracked the very earth with lightening, people like the Dark Riders... people like Serenity.   
  
Then there were the Master's "Projects", mutants under His special attention and care. These beings needed only minor adjustments to become One of the Strong. These "adjustments" often took years, and the Projects were at their most dangerous during that period of readjustment. She had been briefed on them all, and especially on Logan. The Master had been watching him for a *very* long time, and had even made it a point to interfere and interact with Logan at points in his life. One of her Master's plans had obviously been set into motion the day He instructed his capture in the Weapon X Program, although Eve was unsure of the reasons for His actions.   
  
Wolverine and a man named "Cable" were especially dangerous, she had been told, and was then given reasons as to why. While the stories of the mutants had sickened and worried her, the exploits of the two men had made her truly afraid.  
  
But when she had *touched* Mr. Logan for the first time...it hadn't been as she'd feared. There was an unnatural uneasiness along the fringes of his mind, as if something horrid prowled the edges, holding sentry for what lay within. That feeling alone would have shied her away from *looking* deeper, she would just do as the Master asked and be done with it, but as she prepared to leave the bloody battle field she caught a glimpse of something hidden under a veil of anger and brutality. It shone like nothing she had ever seen before: bright, luminescent memories and principles. It was the true self of Logan, one he too often chose to hide behind a mask of rage. It was the honor that had made him join the X-Men for the atonement he felt he needed, it was what broke his heart every time he dared love and lost, it was the shame and humiliation at what had been done to him and what *he* had done, it was what inspired his too few friends to cherish his gruff manner. It was what had made him save a white-eyed girl from being crushed by a falling telephone pole. The glimpse showed so much, and yet not enough. She so longed to be a part of that pure, honorable self that she never wanted to leave. Eve was unsure how long she had stayed nestled inside his essence, secure and safe and unnoticed. Serenity had bullied her way into her mind and *made* her go back to her own body. As her eyes fluttered open she had never felt so disheartened about her life... never felt so utterly *alone*...  
  
Eve made her decision and looked around the room the Dark Riders had placed her in for safe keeping. The only other being there was Manta. The reptilian thing was perched in front of the doorway, blocking both her exit and anyone's entrance. It's beady black eyes never strayed from her as she moved closer to it. The predatory gleam in them made her shiver.  
  
As she sidled towards the door she entered it's mind. It was a greasy, nasty, violent thing, churning with primordial desires and thoughts. Her shivers intensified to full trembling.  
  
She had always known she could read the thoughts of the Dark Riders; it had never been in question. The first and only time she had was when they were introduced to each other as children. Just a brief mental nod to say "hello" was all she had intended, but was never given the chance to. Her tentative attempt had been met by horrifying hostility and rage. It had told her all that she had needed to know about her "friends".   
  
Now, however, she felt the end justified the means. *Manta,* she whispered directly into his cerebral cortex. *Please close your eyes.*  
  
Manta's eye's closed.  
  
*When I go out that door, I don't want you to follow me. And don't tell anyone I'm gone either...Okay?*  
  
Manta's head bobbed up and down mechanically.  
  
Eve opened the door and walked into the hallway. The *Awakening* had already begun, and Mr. Logan could not be exposed to the *Restructuring* or the warmth she knew was in his mind would be warped and twisted forever. Mr. Logan's friends had to be warned. They were in mortal danger.  
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````Part 12/?  
  
Rogue itched. Her skin felt like it was threatening to jump off of her bones and she longed for a cigarette. The fact that she had never smoked one before was understandably bothering her. The desire to be out of the complex was burning away at her nerves. She needed be outside, soon, by any means necessary.  
  
She chalked it up to nerves. Lord, she had faced off with aliens, demons, evil megalomaniacs, bad hair days, entire armies, dinosaurs, politicians, and even a nuclear missile or two and the simple act of walking down a hallway was making her more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room of rocking chairs!  
  
Her discomfort was easily explainable. The corridor had seemed endless. They'd passed a number of dark rooms filled to the brim with all sorts of mechanical instruments and computer equipment of all sizes. Dominating one round chamber in eerie silence was a large glass tube. Glinting inside was a strange, thick liquid the color of blood. It sent shivers down Rogue's spine as she was reminded of a giant, pregnant womb, minus the child. The odor of the hall and the adjoining rooms was making her sick. It smelled like caged death, so strong that she could almost taste the blood.  
  
The place resembled nothing more than an underground hospital save for one thing: every piece of equipment was lifeless. Computers had been shut down, monitors were blank, and instruments were silent. Illuminated only by flickering overhead lights neglected workstations held the remains of coffee cups, files, and personalities. The entire complex was radiating a sense of...absence.  
  
*It's like a tomb down heyah.*  
  
The last time she had felt this wrong was when she had first come to the mansion. To keep herself from jumping at every shadow, Rogue sunk into her thoughts and memories...  
  
The team had accepted her early on, but she had felt...alien entering such a place. Especially when she had almost killed one of their closest friends. Each one was polite enough, but there were cold undertones every time she was in a room with them. She truly did want to change, but what else could she have expected?  
  
The worst of the bunch had been Wolverine. He gave new definition to the phrase "cold shoulder." The X-Men had been invited to Japan for his almost marriage to Mariko Yashida. She remembered standing in the doorway watching the small group get reacquainted and realizing that these people were more than just a team, they were *family*. Mariko had noticed her and asked Logan if he would invite her into their home. His words still squeezed her heart with an icy fist years later: *"If it were up to me, M'iko, I'd cut out her heart."* He had meant those words, and she knew it. Unlike the other X-Men, hated her on a personal level. Carol Danvers and he were close friends and had served together before the X-Men were a glimmer in the Professor's eye. After all of the horrid things that had been done to him to make him forget, Logan was fiercely protective of the people and memories he *did* remember. Those precious few were rewarded with a love that many never saw.   
  
That love had saved Rogue's life. Wolverine had given her a chance to prove to herself and to the rest of the team that her intent to change her life was genuine. The X-Men had all been poisoned that very night, leaving only Rogue and Wolverine to fend off Viper and the Silver Samurai, surviving themselves only by the skin of their teeth. She had taken a shot from Viper's gun meant for Mariko and Logan. She still could remember the unexpected pain as the beam cut deep into her chest. She remembered how gently Logan had held her, telling her that it was going to be okay. He had voluntarily allowed her absorb his healing factor in order to save her life, putting his own at great risk. The gift was a double edged sword, allowing her to absorb not only his powers to heal, but also to wallow in the turbulence of his mind and thoughts. She knew that there would always be a part of him that could not forgive her, but he felt that everyone deserved a second chance, with a little help from a *friend*. Rogue had risked her life to save Mariko, and that meant more to him than she would ever know. Logan know considered her one of his friends, one of the lucky few.  
  
Things had been different between the two of them since that night. They had shared something no one else could ever hope to understand, that overwhelming hybrid of power and pain as your being is made fresh and new before your eyes. It had made them coconspirators in a world of prejudice. They were reminded of each other every time their eyes met. Rogue held back the seductive urge to make contact with others. She imagined that it was how a junkie might feel about their drug of choice, and desperately rallied against what that meant about her. Every second of every day, Logan fought to keep his killer instincts at bay. They all knew what it meant if he were to succumb, they had faced it many times in the gore streaked visage of Sabretooth. Rogue knew Logan's greatest fear was that he wouldn't be strong enough to stop himself from going over the edge, but instead of cowering in some corner as she had sometimes been prone to do he walked tall and faced the imminent storm. He was one of the bravest men she'd ever met and she would readily walk through Hell to help him.  
  
Which brought her back to her current situation.  
  
The hall ended unexpectedly a dozen feet in front of the group. The room it opened into was dark, and nearly impossible to see inside. That didn't stop sound from escaping however. The brisk sound of cards being shuffled made Rogue immediately homesick for Remy, and she wondered if he had woken up yet. If he was thinking about her at that moment. The shuffling was underlined by the soft whispers of voices in light conversation. Jubilee gasped and silently held up the mini-Cerebro for all to see. The blinking green dot was going so fast as to almost be constant. The meaning was plain to see.  
  
Wolverine was inside that room. *Alive.* He was going to come home with them. The X-Men would deal with whatever horrors had been done to him, together, as a family. He was in that room and they were going to get him.  
  
Heaven help the Dark Riders...Logan's family were ready to protect their own and nothing was going to stop them. *Nothing.*  
_________________________________________  
  
Eve struggled to breath as she ran down the hallway. She had to warn the X-Men, they had no idea what was happening in that room. Logan's body might be Awake but *he* was not. The essence that made him the man they loved was being tortured somewhere else entirely. She could feel him fighting it, screaming in rage and pain in his mind, the only voice left to him. He could feel everything that they were doing to him, knew what the darkness slowly consuming him was and cried out against it. It was his worst nightmare brought to life and he was powerless to stop it. She let him feel her presence through his torture and whispered that it would be all right. Help was on the way and he need just hold out a while longer. His mind grasped onto hers for meager respite from the pain. It almost drowned Eve in sensation but she somehow managed to remain on her feet.  
  
As she rounded a corner, she saw the X-Men far ahead of her. They were clustered a dozen feet in front of the door. *Just in time,* she thought. Suddenly, Logan's screams ripped through her and she stumbled to the ground. As it echoed to her through the hall Eve realized that the scream issued from his mouth as well as his mind. Logan must have been reconnected with his body. All of his senses were on fire now, not just his soul. He was in agony. Sounds of thrashing and growling could be heard as an acidic undertone to the scream. His flesh reflected the struggles that his mind had been alone to deal with.  
  
Eve surged to her feet as she saw the X-Men charge into the room. "No!" she screamed. "It's a-" She gasped and stopped dead as cold shudders attacked her small frame. An icy voice echoed throughout her entire being.  
  
~What are you doing First Child? The Master forbid you to come hear, did he not?~  
  
Serenity stood unmoving in the hall ahead of her, effectively blocking Eve's way. Eve's heart threatened to burst as the screams continued. If she couldn't get to them that way...*X-Men, please-*  
  
The chill that always accompanied Serenity's voice grew huge, cutting a path directly through Eve's mind, severing any mental connections before she could block it out. Logan's cries grew unbearably louder, and Eve's was lost in the flood of pain.  
  
She gathered herself up from where she had fallen to the floor in agony. At first her timid voice failed her, but she steeled herself and went on. "You...You don't *understand* Serenity! He's not like us! He doesn't deserve this!"  
  
The voice echoed in her scull forcefully. ~Doesn't deserve this? The Master bids it, it is done. I thought you knew that First Child. Must you be reminded? Again?~ Serenity stepped toward her steadily.  
  
Unbidden tears fell from Eve's bizarre eyes. If Serenity got her hands on her, the X-Men were as good as dead. "I don't have time for this." Putting all of her weight into it, Eve punched Serenity right in the middle of her expressionless face. The blow hit her hard and she landed on the floor several feet away from Eve.   
  
"Wow," Eve whispered. *Please be unconscious, please be unconscious, PLEASE be unconscious!*  
  
The roar from the room ahead of her ended abruptly. The empty silence was paradoxically worse than the cacaphony of torment. "Oh, no."  
  
Leaving Serenity on the floor, Eve ran as fast as she could to the room ahead of her. But she already knew that she was too late. The trap had been sprung.  
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````Part 13/?  
  
The first screams tore through them with the full force of a nuclear explosion. It sounded inhuman, a screech echoing across endless, barren fields of pain. And yet there was something horribly fragile and afraid living inside the horror. It called to their very souls, begging for an end to the madness it was surrounded by.  
  
"Wolvie..." Jubilee whispered.  
  
The X-Men surged forward, into the darkened room. Lightening flashed in a strobe, thanks to Storm, illuminating everything in short bursts. The card players, the Strong Woman and the Heat Shimmer Man, had discarded their game and running toward a table in the back of the room. Stunned by the X-Men's thunderous entrance, they turned, revealing fully what lay on the metal slab. Uniform torn and bloody, mask missing, Wolverine writhed against his restraints. Face contorted in agony, the scream still sprang from his throat.  
  
"X-Men- *ATTACK!*" Cyclops yelled.  
  
Screaming a rebel yell that would have made any Yankee weak in the knees, Rogue blasted toward the woman, arms outstretched and fists clenched. She slammed into the Dark Rider's chest and bulleted on at full blast. There was a resounding crash as the far wall crumbled under their combined weight. Dust filled the air and for a moment, nothing could be seen of the two. Then, the scene slowly came into view. A snarling Rogue stood rigid over a hurt and bleeding Dark Rider. "That was fer Gambit," she spat.  
  
Storm lifted her bruised body carefully off of the ground. Cyclops and Jubilee were teaming up against the Heat Man but to no avail. His shield simply absorbed all of their efforts. Storm's regal voice carried over the din to the fighters. "Well my friend, you seem to have an appetite for my colleagues fire. Let us see if you are still hungry after you taste *me*!"   
  
Lightening flashed from her eyes as she gathered the elements to her. Dark clouds flowed overhead as the breath flowed from her body. Her white, shimmering hair misted about her on the arctic gale aimed itself at the Dark Rider. Hail the size of softballs rained down on him. Those that he could avoid melted, but there was just too many at one time. Several chunks hit him in the trunk and legs, but one viscous looking piece connected solidly with his skull with a mighty crack. Storm landed gently on her feet the same that he fell to the ground.   
  
"Okaaaaaay..." Cyclops looked at the damage the two women had caused. Well, it turned out better than he was worried it would. The reason for his mission returned to him and he rushed to Wolverine's side. "Jubilee, watch the door."  
  
"But I-"  
  
"If we're ambushed by the rest of the Dark Riders, then this would have all been for nothing and we'll never get Logan out of here. Now *guard that door!*"  
  
Obviously torn, Jubilee hesitated a moment and ran to the door.  
  
Cyclops reached the table. *God he looks terrible.* "It'll be all right now Logan," he said and placed a hand on his heaving chest. Logan's face relaxed with his touch, and Cyclops' ears rang with the silence as his cries stuttered out into unconsciousness.   
  
"Rogue, get these restraints off of him and let's get the Hell out of here."  
________________________________________  
  
Jubilee snapped to attention when she saw movement in the dark hallway. Someone was coming. She drew in breath to shout a warning but the cry died in her throat as she recognized who it was. White hair bobbed toward her and black eyes stared from a paler face. She slowed a few feet in front of her.  
  
"You!"  
  
"Please, you have to-"  
  
*"Bitch!"* She spun on her ankle in a viscous round-house kick, belting Eve solidly in the jaw. She fell to the floor, out like a light. Jubilee looked unsympathetically down at her. "Humph. Wuss."  
  
"What's going on here?"  
  
She turned to find Cyclops standing in the doorway with Storm and Rogue, who carried a silent Wolverine.   
  
"Is he..."  
  
"Unconscious. We're not sure how bad yet. Now answer my question."  
  
"Jus' guardin' the door, like you said."  
  
"Uh huh. We'll have to take her with us."  
  
"What? Why?!"  
  
"We need to know exactly what has been done to Wolverine. She's the perfect candidate for that. Oh, and *you'll* be the one to carry her out of here."  
  
"Aw, man! But she-"  
  
"No 'buts'. *Do it.*"  
  
Cyclops pushed passed her out into the hall, Storm close behind. Rogue gave her a sympathetic smile and followed. As she passed Jubilee got a good look at her precious burden and she had to remind herself to breathe again.  
  
She kneeled down close to the girl's crumpled form. She whispered quietly in her ear to avoid the others overhearing her. "*You* did that to him, and for that I should kill ya myself." An evil grin slipped onto her features. "But I think I'll leave you ta Wolvie. I *know* he'll love *that*." She grabbed her arms and picked her up. For someone who was older than the teen, the white-haired girl was surprisingly light. "Hey guys, wait up!"  
______________________________________________  
  
Hundreds of miles way, a man sits alone, surrounded by faces and memories. The memories were particularly strong today.   
  
He places the final piece in place and surveys his work. The frame is strong wood, but the metal fixtures at its edges were too heavy and often unbalanced and upset it, so that it always appeared to be leaning in one direction or other. *Much like the man in the photograph it holds,* he mused.  
  
He gently turns it around in his hands so that he can study the image hidden behind the glass front. The picture had to have been taken without it's subjects knowledge, had the man known the photographer was there he never would have held the pose. Kitty must have snapped it; there was a period of a few weeks when the teen carried her camera everywhere. The Danger Room, the hallways, to class, to the breakfast table, nowhere was safe from her flashbulb. Her specialty was phasing out of things and catching her victims unaware. Sometimes only the camera's face would show up out of the carpet and they'd never know she was there until the film had been developed. He smiled as he remembered Bobby trying to get her to take some pictures for him for blackmail purposes. He never was sure what became of that subject...  
  
This picture held one of her trademarks. The image was bisected by a portion of wall, allowing the viewer to see inside the house as well as inside. The light off of the full moon reflected back on the man in the picture, the only source of illumination to be found. His forehead rested on a window, rough features distant. A single hand had been placed on the pane, as if wanting to touch what lay in wait outside. Beyond the wall, the viewer saw the forest surrounding his home. The man gazed into the depths of the wood, seeking he knew not what. A phrase of poetry flashed unbidden through his mind. *The woods are lovely, dark and deep...*  
  
There were many different facets of the man in the picture, many of which had been captured on film at some time or other, but none of those photos appealed to him as this one did. There was something elemental in his gaze...as if the only thing holding back this primal beauty were the walls he allowed himself to be caged in.  
  
The man rubbed his eyes roughly and took a quick breath. He had been sitting here reminiscing when there were things needed to be done, contacts to be made. As he set the picture on his desk firmly, his fingers betrayed him and played over the glass of the man's cheek. His brown eyes roamed over the other frames on his desk, the sizes and shapes as varied as the people they stood for. So many...he had hoped...it had seemed as if they would live forever. Especially that wonderful, *vital* man. He'd already lived through so much that there were times he felt that the roles would be reversed, and the gruff brawler would outlive *him*.  
  
The buzz of the field intercom on his desk buzzed urgently through his tortured thoughts. He practically dove for it. "Yes?"  
  
"Professor, we found him," Cyclops voice droned in. The man held his breath. "Him and the girl. And Professor...You're not going to believe this...but he's *alive*, sir. *Logan's alive*."  
  
He released a shuddery breath and buried his face in his hands. The tears he'd held in for so long came and he wept.   
  
"Thank God," he whispered. Silently, he reached a shaking hand out to the newest frame on his desk and gently laid it face down, obscuring those soulful eyes. The next few lines of that poem rifted through his head and he smiled. *But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.*  
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````Part 14/?  
  
They all turned at the squeak of the door hinges. Several very apprehensive gazes aligned on the flurry blue man that entered shortly after. Hank took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. Between worrying over Gambit in the infirmary and his constant work in the lab, he had only managed to sneak in a few hours sleep in as many days. It didn't look like he'd get the opportunity to nap any time in the near future either.  
  
He sighed as he looked at the X-Men gathered in the War Room. "Well...he's still not awake so I can't make any guesses as to his mental condition... but physically everything seems to be working fine. Gene scans, x-rays, blood tests, they all match up with how his body functioned before save three noteworthy exceptions. First, our occasionally feral friends eyes have begun to change color, as Storm was gracious enough to notice. His normally blue eyes are now a rather bizarre shade of red with little blue swirls surrounding the pupils. I'd wager that in a short time, they will turn completely red. Second, the catscans are registering that he has an awful large amount of brain activity going on for someone who's just been 'resurected'. He's thinking real hard about something folks, but I truly have no idea what it could be. I wouldn't suggest that the Professor or Jean attempt to telepathically contact him yet, however; they could hurt him more than help him. And last but cerrtainly not least, Logan's life signs no longer register on any conventional equipment. The only things that worked at all are Cerebro, the Shi'ar equipment and just plain old-fashioned stethoscopes and eyesight. According to the standard 'non-alien' equipment Logan is legally dead. And yet his lungs and heart continue to function on his preestablished level. It's almost as if someone he was being purposely cloaked against any modest means of discovery...   
  
"And that leads us to the million dollar question, my friends: why did Dark Riders take him at all? It has become clear that the "attack" on the girl was simply a fabrication to draw us out of the woodwork, as it were. But was the only reason for the ruse this sorry abduction? They had to know that we'd come for him...at least to claim his body. I just can't see *why* they'd go through all this trouble!"  
  
"Easy Hank," the Professor soothed. "When do you expect him to wake?"  
  
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Beast visibly pulled himself together. "Based on his previous rate of healing before his abduction? I'd reckon anywhere from twenty minutes to a half an hour. That is if we wakes up at *all*."  
  
At that, everyone suddenly seemed to find something ,ore interesting to look at than Hank and his worried expression. Silence rained in the room for several long minutes until the crack of Jubilee's gum broke the quiet. "That's okay," she whispered to the arranged adults before her. "He'll wake up in *ten*, just to prove you wrong Blue..." Her trembling lips betrayed her steady tone and confident words.   
  
"Oh, child." Storm hugged her tightly with her good arm and smiled encouragingly. "He will be fine, you'll see. Isn't he always?"  
  
Jubilee grinned back. "Yeah... You're right 'Ro. Everything'll turn out cool."  
  
"All right people." Cyclops stood and attracted their attention. "The way I see it we have two options. One, we stand around here, moping, waiting for Wolverine to wake up, or two, we can do something constructive. I say we 'question' our white-eyed guest down in the detention center. I'm willing to bet that she has some answers."  
  
"Right," agreed the Professor. "Hank, you stay in the infirmary and notify us if there is any change. Cyclops, Jean, you join me in questioning the girl. Everyone else," his voice grew softer, "try to relax. I know that you're on edge, we all are, but there's no rushing these things. I want no waiting by the door or getting in Hank's way. That includes you too Jubilee. *Relax*. What happens, happens." And with that, he turned and headed out the door and into the hall.  
  
As everyone the group began to dissipate, a certain teenager mumbling darkly, Rogue stopped Hank with a light touch on his arm. "Doc...uh, I know this is gonna sound shallow o' me what with Wolvie an' all, but...well, Ah didn't get a chance ta ask earlier.."  
  
Beast chuckled warmly and patted her gloved hand. "It's all right Rogue, you don't need to ask. Remy is doing fine. Like his hirsute compatriot, he has not yet awoken but his wounds are on the mend."  
  
With a sigh and a grin Rogue relaxed a great deal. "Thanks Doc. Ah'd appreciate it if ya'll let me know when he wakes up."  
  
"Definitely my dear. You will be the first to know. Know, you'd better follow the Professor's orders and enjoy some sweet repose. You've had a very long couple of days."  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
Cyclops caught his wife's arm as they left the War Room and pulled her close. His voice was low, so that the others wouldn't hear. "Jean, are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine Scott, really."  
  
"Jean...You've been completely unresponsive to your side of our link. What's wrong? Is it about Logan? Is that it? Are you worried that I won't understand how relieved you are that he's alive? That you feel for him-"  
  
"*No* Scott, it's not that at all."  
  
"Then what *is* it, honey? If I can help you I want to."  
  
Jean's jaw twitched and a tear escaped her right eye and slid down her cheek. "You don't *know* Scott..."  
  
"Then *tell* me. Please"  
  
As words failed her Scott felt the golden curl that was her mind return to his thoughts. He repressed a sigh as she reset their mind link and mentally fed him what her stubborn, trembling lips could not.  
  
~I felt him DIE Scott. In my mind...in his. There's no way you can fake that...that horribly EMPTY feeling when someone close to you is gone. That little girl killed him, Scott, no matter what Hank's tests say otherwise. I don't know what that thing is you rescued, whether it's just a shell or something else, but I'm telling you it is NOT Logan!~  
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````Part 15  
  
Eve groaned as the overhead lights burned through her bleary eyes and directly into her pounding brain. She was sorely tempted to close them again and retreat back into that wonderful dark calm of unconsciousness but decided against it. There were things much more important at stake here than just her discomfort. Banishing the headache she looked around her.  
  
*Where am I?* she wondered. She was lying on a cushioned slab in a corner of a tiny room. *Cell is more like it* Besides the bed, a single chair and table were the only other furnishings in the room. There were no windows and a thin field of static covered the only exit. And standing behind the field...  
  
"Please you have to listen to me!"  
  
Cyclops *hmphed*. "Oh we have all intentions of listening to you. And don't get any ideas. This force field not only keeps you from escaping but it also negates any and all mutant powers. Now, why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself."  
  
"And what you did to Logan," Jean Grey-Summers finished for her husband. Eve looked at her captors. Cyclops' face remained a stony mask, but his stance and the tone of his voice left no doubt as to his mood. Seated quietly behind him, Professor Xavier had tried to arrange his features in what he must have thought was a kind, understanding expression but what was reflecting in his eyes was a completely different story. Unlike the others, Phoenix didn't bother with putting up a false front. Sparks literally flared from her eyes and her teeth were fixed in a permanent snarl. Nope, she didn't have any friends here with *this* bunch either. Eve had learned the hard way that with people this upset, it was best just to do as they say.  
  
She stood and walked as close to them as the field would allow. "My name is Eve, and I never wanted to hurt Mr. Logan once I realized the kind of person he really was."  
  
"Fat lot of help that was to him *then*," Jean growled.  
  
Eve chose to ignore that. "If these static things cut off mutant powers then you must put one around Mr. Logan as soon as possible."   
  
"And why is that?" Professor Xavier asked.   
  
"He'll be awake soon. We don't really have time for explanations...Oh, all right, if you insist! What you rescued from our labs wasn't Mr. Logan, not really-"  
  
*"I knew it!"* Phoenix spat. *"You killed him you little-"*   
  
"Jean stop!" Cyclops grabbed the red head before she could disarm the field and then do the same to Eve.  
  
"Violence solves nothing here Jean!" the Professor yelled over her grunts of effort.  
  
Eve put up her hands to block any forthcoming attacks. "No, you don't understand! He's not dead, part of him is just...somewhere else. The part that makes him Mr. Logan."  
  
Xavier put a soothing hand on Jean's arm. "Please, Eve, elaborate."  
  
Phoenix had calmed down a considerable amount and Eve felt it safe to continue. If someone like Phoenix ever got a hold of her... She decided to put it as simply as possible. "I didn't kill Mr. Logan. I only separated part of what made him himself, his essence if you like, from his physical shell. I'm sorry to say that the process was not a very pleasant one and was quite painful."  
  
Eve almost didn't hear the quiet protest from Phoenix. "But I felt him *die*."   
  
"Yes, Mrs. Summers, you did." She looked away, ashamed. "The Dark Riders needed you to stay away for a while so they made me hurt him. The Separation terminated the link between Mr. Logan and the physical world. Death is essentially the same act, only on a different level. And for Mr. Logan this Separation was twice as hard because his senses and self were so deeply in tuned with the world around him. Mr. Logan has been in another plane, utterly alone. Isolated with his memories and his pain. Everything he remembers or has ever tried to forget has been let loose from the mental constraints that he'd placed on them. I'm guessing that an equal equivalent for us would be if we were to cut out our eyes, ears, tongue, nose and fingers and then being dropped in the middle of a war zone...It hasn't been a very pleasant experience for him, I'm afraid."  
  
Cyclops had gone several shades paler. "If it's that bad than just return him back into his body from this other plane."  
  
Eve's small laugh held no humor. "But I *can't*! After the initial Separation Serenity took over the process. Mr. Logan has two distinct personalities; *one*, the man that you've all come to know and love and *two*... the monster that he has hidden from you. You might have seen glimpses of it when his control lapsed but for the most part he's kept it stored safely inside. Up until now, Mr. Logan has been the only one aware of how horrible this creature was, and that knowledge hurt more each day he suppressed it. It's woken him from his sleep in a cold sweat at least a thousand times." Eve noticed the way that Professor Xavier stiffened in his chair at this revelation.  
  
"While he's been in this other plane, his...*Other* has been given free reign on his body and his memories. Serenity has been there the whole time, taunting it and teaching it how best to use what they gave it. She's blocked both parts of Mr. Logan away from any outside stimulus. You see, I was lucky that I could even get in to *talk* to him let alone *save* him!" Eve looked desperately at the three X-Men opposite her. "Don't you get it?! Your 'rescue' wasn't an accident on our part, every one of your actions had been planned on by the Master. You must get Mr. Logan's body down here very quickly before the Awakening is complete. If not, Mr. Logan may be gone forever and you will be at the Other's mercy!"   
===========================  
Serenity turned to her Master. ~Now, Lord?~  
  
"Yes…now."  
  
She closed her eyes and gathered her strength.  
===========================  
Cyclops turned as a white beam shot through the walls toward them. As it passed through him, gooseflesh raised every hair on his body and the chill made him shudder. He saw the beam bounce harmlessly off of the force field to scatter around the rest of the room.  
  
It seemed to have a more drastic effect on Jean and the Professor though. Before they could scream, blood burst from their noses and each slumped forward, completely limp. Scott barely caught his wife as she fell, he was so terrified. Not of the apparent injury to his love, but of the fact that their link had shared nothing with him. Not a forewarning, not a cry of surprise- even her pain had not crossed over to him. In fact, it was as if the link had never existed at all.  
  
"Jean? *Jean?!* Can you hear me?" No response from his now unconscious bride. "Professor?!" None there either. The Professor was sprawled in his wheelchair, head lolling against the backrest. Scott gently shook hid wife. "What's wrong baby? *Please* answer me…"   
  
A barely heard whisper interrupted his plea. Scott looked up to see the white-eyed girl slowly backing away from the holding field.   
  
*"What?"* he demanded. He dimly realized that the walls were still in place and intact. The force of the blast surely would have turned them into rubble?   
  
"Serenity," Eve whispered, eyes large and frightened. "If not for the force field she'd have gotten *me,* too."  
  
"Can you fix this?"  
  
Eve slowly shook her head. "N-no. It's already started. We're too late…" She tore her eyes away from the unconscious telepaths and looked at Scott. "But *maybe*…You have to let me out of here now. I'm the only one he can't get to. I don't know if I can stop him or not but I'm your only chance. Please!"  
  
"You better have a good explanation for all this," Scott muttered as he laid his wife on the floor and headed toward the keypad lock.  
===================================   
~The telepaths are out of the way Master.~   
  
"Excellent Serenity. It is time for the end of the old world, and the beginning of *ours*. If our puppet is successful here, *nothing* will be able to stand in or way again."  
  
~Yes Lord.~   
  
"Wake Logan, Serenity."  
  
~Yes Lord.~  
===================================  
Beast was in the medlab when the cold white beam strafed the house. *What on earth?* he wondered. He made only four steps to the intercom when a loud, rhythmic buzzing diverted his attention. Henry rushed to where one of his monitors was going crazy. As he reached the table housing both computer and patient he gasped.  
  
"Logan! You're awake! I-"  
  
Any comments, medicinal or otherwise, died on his tongue as his friend's eyes connected steadfastly on his own. Henry tried to back away, or in the very least blink, but found himself unable.  
  
A red the color of dried blood had somehow creeped into Wolverine's eyes, swarming in a pool of blood-shot white. Before Hank's unbelieving eyes, a red haze seeped out from under his lids, giving them a bizarre, entrancing allure. And then Hank was gone, being pulled headfirst into a blood filled nightmare.  
==================================  
Cyclops had punched in the first three digits when his hand suddenly dropped to his side. Alarmed, Eve rushed forward. She gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth. A light red mist hovered obscenely over Cyclops' visor and, she assumed, his eyes as well. And then he simply fell, landing hard on the ground next to his wife.  
  
"Oh no," she whispered, backing away from the door to crouch in the furthest corner. "It's over. It's all over. I was too late…" When the first cries and moans penetrated her cell, tears had already made well-worn tracks down her cheeks.   
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To be continued.... 


	4. Part 16

*Author's Note: Okay kiddies. Nothin' too bad, but I am issuing a bad word warning. However, I feel that it is merited in the context of the story. Oh, and if you're interested, some of the events take place in actual Marvel continuity (gasp, imagine!). Marvel Comics Present 72, Wolverine 57, and Uncanny X-Men 126, respectfully.*  
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Nightmares and MonstersPart 16/?  
by Misty  
  
The caverns of the mind are dangerous. Deep casms in memories disrupt the passageways and cobwebs mar the stale air. The rock walls and floor are so full of treacherous outcroppings that one would be completely shredded upon entry.   
  
Sometimes, when a mind has witnessed or experienced too much pain, a strange dark life begins to emerge from within the murky depths of the caverns. Minuscule and parasitic at first, it soon grows, feeding, nourishing itself on the darkness that surrounds it. When it's strong enough, it charges up through the stillness and breaks through the walls of the cavern itself, leaving the very thing that gave it life a screaming, gaping mass. The X-Men had always known that the man named Logan had mysterious demons that they couldn't understand. Now however, they have been plunged into the debris of his mind, and they were forced to look upon his torment in all its hideous forms.  
  
They would never be the same again.  
  
=====================  
  
Jubilee gagged as the cold tube was forced down her throaght. It tasted foul, like metal death. She vainly struggled one more time to break through the straps chaining her to the table.  
  
=====================  
  
Sweet pain flowed into Rogue from her slashed wrists. She watched silently as her blood dripped sluggishly onto the newspapers gathered on the table. Through the empty pill jars and whiskey bottles their headlines shouted out at her. "MUTANTS REAL!" "PUBLIC OUTCRY OVER MUTANT MENACE!" "WINGED BOY SEEN IN NY! CITIZENS FEAR MUTANT!" "ARE YOU A MUTANT?"  
  
She felt her eyes droop and she smiled tiredly. It shouldn't be much longer now. Just a little more blood lost and she wouldn't have to keep living like this anymore. She was burnt out, mentally and physically. She was just so tired of pretending anymore...  
  
Those idiots at work said that she was paranoid. They didn't know the half of it! She had seen the men out of the corner of her eye, watching her every move; she heard their whispers when they thought she was out of earshot. They were everywhere, and nowhere at the same time, always disappearing when she gave chase. Bars, home, even at *work* she wasn't safe from them. And she knew that the minute she turned her back on them it would be too late, for her or anyone else like her. The shrinks had only looked at her in their shrinky way and said "Who are 'they'?" She was afraid to say that she had no idea.   
  
Sighing, her eyes drifted closed against the pain.  
  
*Just a little more...* she thought.  
  
And then the blood stopped dripping. *No!*  
  
Disgusted, she glared at her healed wrists. With a growl of rage she sent the table and its contents hurling across the room with a mighty shove. The papers flew into the air, floating down to land gently on the floor, angry headlines mocking her vain attempts at escape.  
  
*God, I just want this to be over!*  
  
But it wasn't going to be over anytime soon for her. It hadn't even begun yet and she knew it. She was a mutant, and the whole world knew about it. It was only a matter of time until she would fail to see them lurking in the shadows behind her. Then, Hell itself would be let loose.  
  
====================  
  
Beast was still fully awake despite the gas coming in through the tube. He coughed violently as his body tried to reject whatever was being piped into his lungs. Tiny spatters of blood soon appeared on his chin and face. The technicians hovering over him took no notice as they continued to mark on his body in dark ink.  
  
====================  
  
"Please my love," she whispered.  
  
Scott looked down upon the woman he cradled in his arms. She was his love, his life, his sole purpose for being. She had shown him so much...  
  
"No, Mari. I *can't*," his voice broke on her name.  
  
Even with his sensitive hearing he almost missed her words through her grunt of pain. "You...you have done so much for me al...already."  
  
He shook his head violently, telling her that she was wrong, that *she* was the strong one, the brave one, not him. She went on despite his protests, knowing in her heart the truth.  
  
"*Hurts* s-s-s-s-s-o-oo... just this l-l-last s-s-s-s-sacri-fi-fice my love...*please!*"  
  
He kissed her trembling lips with a tenderness most thought him unable. The stench of painful death corroded the scent of his Mariko with her every breath. The woman he loved should not be forced to suffer such a hideous death. Her only crime in this life was to have been his lover.  
  
*"I'm so sorry,"* he whispered in her ear and swiftly tilted her shaking body forward. Scott sprang his claws into her chest, piercing her heart with a wet "schluck" sound.  
  
The echo of it resounded in his ears for a moment, then the only sound in the temple was his tortured breathing.  
  
Her face was so peaceful in death, and yet the very substance that made him love her was gone. Her unfocused black eyes bore directly into his soul and he knew that when he had killed her he had killed himself as well. Clutching her lifeless husk to his chest Scott howled his loss, his tears mixing with her blood on the tiled floor.  
  
=======================  
  
Rogue watched them blearily as her body gave up and the gas began to win. For a moment, her life was peaceful, nestled somewhere on the edge of consciousness. Then they inserted the first needle. Pain flared through her arm as the sharp point lodged itself in her bone, refusing to be removed. Her eyes widened and she screamed until her throat was raw as they jammed in one after the other, over and over, hundreds of probes across her entire body. The pain didn't even stop when the technicians were forced to pause and mop up her blood as it got in their way.  
  
=======================  
  
*"I...am...PROTEUS--the mutant who masters reality!"*  
  
Jubilee's stomach lerched as the ground gave way under her. Her body twisted and floated away like gossamer strings; the next moment contracting in to collapse on itself. Her mouth wouldn't obey her order to scream, it was busy elsewhere.  
  
*This can't be happenin'!* her frenzied mind cried. She tried to call on her senses, to rummage through what she felt happening trying to ascertain what was real. Agony flared through her mind at her findings. The sky dripped with blood and the grass flashed neon, burning his retinas. Birds flew backwards and trees sprouted glass tires. The smell of roses mingled with the stench of decomposing flesh. Sounds were becoming so warped that it was unbearable to hear anything. The touch of Nightcrawler's hand on her shoulder burned like acid and froze on contact. Even her own scream was lost in the torrent of severe sensation.   
  
But underlying it all was a deep ache as all of her senses flushed into overload. Her brain exploded with horrid, ghastly imput beyond anything she had ever imagined. It turned her familiar view of the world around her into a playground of repulsively foreign objects. For the first time in a long time, Jubilee felt deep, gnawing terror.  
  
=========================  
  
The heavy liquid sloshed around her as they dropped Ororo into the tank. Cable's slithered out and attached themselves to several of the needles in her body, leaving others open to the fluid itself. She pounded the sides of the glass, wasting her breath on unheard screams and pleas. She could just barely see them through the mire of the artificial womb: bizarre phantoms floating among beeping gadgets and lights. As the liquid began to warm and bubble she thought *I will get out of thing alive; and when I do, I will watch you die.*  
  
==========================  
  
Blood ran down the tunnels like water. The stench of it filled his sensitive nose and made bile rise in his throaght. For a moment after their entry, silence reigned in the subterranean depths. Then the cries of the dying and wounded rose from before them like waves in an ocean.  
  
Hank had seen the ravages of war before, many times, but he'd never seen anything like this horror. It was a massacre. Hundreds of Morlocks, hunted into a single sewer tunnel, lay overlapping eachother in their agonized death throes.  
  
He followed the others through the throng, blood and entrails splashing against his feet, staining his boots a deep orange. His field training only covered the core medical necessities and most of the Morlocks were far beyond that. He could not help these people; he wasn't a doctor.  
  
Hank bumped something soft and glanced down. The corpse of a child lay at his feet. No more than four, her skin was a pale green, her black hair done up in pigtails. In her lifeless arms she cradled a raggedy doll, dirty porcelain face crushed under her body, protecting it from what had attacked her. And what a attack it must have been. Five familiar furrows had torn her open from her navel to her neck, cracking through ribs and spilling her insides as his foot jarred her body. It had not been a fast death, or an easy one. The girl's pink mouth was still crying from the grave.   
  
*I swear, Sabretooth,* he thought. *You will pay for this. You sick fuck.*  
  
========================  
  
The agony began as something inside Scott began to melt and twist. Red flogged his vision and consumed his world in a sea of raging blood. It entered his body slowly, tortuous in its mindless pursuit to be one with him. He could feel it moving inside, pushing and pulling at his very bones. Suddenly his body went into hyper-drive and the pain intensified a thousand fold. His entire body seemed to be full of electricity, frying nerve endings and making his muscles quiver. The invasion was repelled, only to come back stronger and harder, again and again. His mind retreated away into madness and he screamed as if he were being dragged naked through Hell.  
  
When it was done and the liquid around him cooled, he felt himself sink to the bottom of the tank, suddenly heavy. The taste of metal was in his mouth and the cheers of success of the scientists outside burned itself forever into his nightmares.  
  
========================  
  
"Vic! We need to get the hell out of here *now*!" Ororo ducked behind the doorjamb as bullets tore through the sidewalk she had inhabited only seconds before. Firing rounds blindly into the night, she dove further into the building, searching for her comrade. "Come on man, they're right behind me! We'll have ta meet the rest o' the team at the withdraw point," she yelled, the words rolling strangely off her tongue, as if in someone else's voice. There was no time to think about it now, though.  
  
When she received no answer, she turned to see the room empty. *Damn.* She'd grown more and more worried about her partner's behavior over the past couple ops. He seemed to be enjoying himself a lot more than usual, inciting confrontations where before he would have simply walked away. Apparently, as she'd grown disillusioned with the job, he simply lived for each mission. She had intended to talk to him about it but this mission had come up and she'd never gotten the chance.  
  
With a growl of frustration, Ororo went deeper into the crumbling outpost, gun held ready. If he'd gone off on his own again...   
  
She found him in one of the rooms towards the back of the building, her partner's bulky form half hidden in the shadows. His gun lay across the floor, far out of grabbing distance. His head was tilted at an angle, like a dog listening to something in the distance. "C'mon Vic, let's book. I wanna make it home in time for my birthday cake and candles."  
  
"*Shhh.* Can't ya hear it?" His voice was distracted and soft, almost lost in a burst of rifle fire nearby.  
  
"Hear what?" She strained her ears as hard as she could, trying to pick up what he did. *Tanks?* she wondered. *Troops?*  
  
"Their screams. They're still echoin' through th' room."  
  
*Oh, shit.* "Who's screams, Vic?"  
  
"Why don'tcha come on in an' listen for yerself?"  
  
Her heart fluttered in her chest as a passing chopper's floodlight illuminated the room through an open window and the disturbed wind brought the smell to her there in the doorway. Blood spattered the walls and caked the floor. There were bodies laying in the dust, their uniforms smeared with gore. When the light passed over her friend, her stomach churned. Bullet holes scored the wall behind him, although many found their mark; he was bleeding from a number of wounds, apparently unbothered by the loss. His bare hands were curled into viscous claws, the bodies on the floor attesting to their viability as weapons.  
  
Her gun arm dropped from its ready position. "Jesus, Victor...What happened?"  
  
"I figured that'd be kinda evident, runt," he chuckled over his nickname for her. He'd come up with it in basic training. "When ya left me here to secure fall back position I called th' others. I told em that ya needed ta see em right away. An' like that they came scurryin' on in here like chicks to th' mama hen! I waited for em in here and picked em off one by one. O' course, they objected." He motioned with a grin at his ravage body.  
  
Ororo slowly inched her way into the room, her face screwing up as she avoided her fallen team. "Why d'you *do* this Vic?! They liked us!" For years, she and Victor had worked alone, something about them making others avoid them like the plague. It had made them ideal for this type of work, but it had only made her feel isolated inside, like some sort of monster. When they were put together with this team a few missions ago, the two had been accepted from the beginning, giving Ororo a feeling of acceptance like she hadn't felt in a long time. She had never told anyone, and now, she'd never get the chance.  
  
Victor stalked forward, eyes slitting to a narrow cut of yellow. "I thought you'd get it by now. No one'll ever *like* us. Not them, not anybody else! We're *freaks* runt. Predators. An' on some level that *meat* over there an' people like it always pick up on that."   
  
She shook her head, hard, her breath coming in gasps. "No. I refuse ta believe that. There ain't nothin' special 'bout me or *you*. You're just a soldier that had one too many ops an' went nuts, an' I ain't like that!" Her shouts were accentuated by forgotten bomb bursts and gunfire outside the building.   
  
"Not yet you ain't. But it'll only be a matter o' time. An' don't think ya can deny it pal. I know, deep down, you're just like me. I can smell it...an' you can, too. Can't ya?"  
  
*"No!"* she shouted. *"I'll never be like you. NEVER!"* Ororo dropped her gun and dove towards her partner, meeting him in the air with a grunt. Snarling like the animal he was, Victor tore at her with his hands, clawing at her soft underbelly. She met his blows with those of her own, until the pair landed hard on the floor, breathing heavily and bleeding from new wounds. The fight seemed to go on for hours, the war being waged outside in the cold German air forgotten as the battle inside took precedence over their world.   
  
Despite her words of denial, she found herself coming closer to the edge of some giant precipice in her mind. One look into that abyss scared her more than anything Victor could ever do. Distracted, she was saved from falling as Vic tore her face and neck badly with his claws. Darkness overtook her as the blood poured from the massive wound, and she fell into unconsciousness.  
  
Miraculously, she awoke hours later from what she had assumed would be her death. Victor was nowhere to be found and the flies were buzzing around what was left of her team, the only people that had shown her the time of day other than the man she knew would never rest until she joined him in his rage and torment.  
  
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To Be Continued …   
  



End file.
